“When are you going to give up on this whole ‘evil’ thing?” “When it stops being so much fun!”

“You didnt say to KILL the man!” “WELL I DIDNT SAY NOT TOO”

“Mum, Dad… I’m gay.” “That’s nice, honey, but now is not the right time!”

“Take a look at your soul and consider your life choices! Oh wait, that’s right! You don’t fucking have a soul!” “Oh, god, just go drown in a bathtub of syrup why don’t ya?”

“I kindly ask you to please quit making your heart stop. It’s creeping me out!” “So… Y-You were sleeping in a coffin” “Yeah I’m used to it” “Are you a vampire or what?! How can someone get used to sleep in a coffin?” “No I’m used to sleep I never said that I’m used to sleep in a freaking coffin!”

“Darling I love you, more than I can ever express in words…. But please stop teaching chickens necromancy.”

“I really wish that old white man would stop rubbing his nipples at me”

“You know it is written: Do not summon Satan, right ?”

“Look around, what is this?” “My room?” “No, this is pathetic.”

“I’ve been a professor for 20 years, and yet still my greatest secret hasn’t been revealed–I can’t read.”

“Our souls don’t belong in these 'human’ bodies, every one of us is implanted here from another galaxy, and this has been the case for a thousand years. No one knows what 'actual humans’ are like without us inhabiting them.”

“Did you just create a portal in time and space to pull another version of yourself into this world so I have to deal with another annoying idiot?” “No but thanks for the idea.”

“What began as a conflict over the transfer of consciousness from flesh to machines escalated into a war which has decimated a Million worlds.The ___ and the ___ have all but exhausted the the resources of a galaxy in their struggle for domination. Both sides, now crippled beyond repair, the remnants of their armies continue to battle on ravaged planets, their hatred fueled by over four thousand years of total war. This is a fight to the death. For each side, the only acceptable outcome is…“

”… I’m going back to bed. You brought it here, you can deal with the mammoth yourself.“

"Is the food supposed to be moving?”

“You mean to tell me that in the two minutes I was gone, you bombed a minor country, got married to a stripper, and assassinated a world leader?!”

“Is that a unicorn???? EATING MY BEEF JERKY?!”

“Do I get to dream about you again tonight?”

“Well now I have to change clothes AGAIN!”

“All of this was because of a… OF A PLUSHIE?!” “Well…Yeah?” “Great, how are we going to get out of jail now?!”

“Sir, that’s impossible, you can’t do that.” “IS THAT A FUCKING CHALLENGE?!?!”

“We need to invade Portugal.” “…Sure, why not?”

“Did you divide by zero?! YOU’RE GOING TO KILL US ALL”

“Stand down, Milady, this is a matter between gentlemen with mustaches.”

“Next time you get arrested I am NOT paying your bail” “That’s a lie and you know it.” “….”

“I thought you were dead.” “So did I”

“John dont flush the dog down the toilet”

“What did I say again about resurrecting dictators??”

“Cucumbers are NOT pets… what do you mean, you ate him??”

“Are you and God seriously fighting right now? And what happened to Satan?”

“Are ferrets supposed to be blue??”

“I’m the protagonist? Well I guess that explains why I look like about a thousand other people.”

“Why do I do this to myself?”

“Stop eating your tortilla chips with ketchup. It’s unattractive.”

“How do you eat an entire cheese wheel in one sitting?”

“Why are God and Satan moving in with us?”

Let’s make one more ‘100 Dialogue Prompts’ list together. Leave a comment with your prompt below. Don’t forget the double quotes “”. And as always, only one prompt per amigo! Also, here is your random Dutch word of the day: pindakaas

Hey! If you're still taking prompts, could you write about neil and Andrew having a conversation about Neil's past? Like the stuff he had to do to survive and the stuff he went through with the worlds shittiest parents? Also I'm pretty sure neil has killed people like it makes complete sense so maybe andreil talking about that?

There’s a band of pale blue light nipping at the tops of the trees and sharpening the silhouettes of the houses, but everything else is fresh and dark. Andrew smokes with the pack clenched in his fist, the cherry of the cigarette winking at the street lamps winking at the orange moon.

Their front porch isn’t like the rush of the rooftop, but he can get that same jitter of fear from Neil nowadays, and he’s more portable. He’d left him knotted in the bedsheets an hour ago, and knowing he’s inside somewhere at his back is burning him up. Andrew inhales and focuses on the exhale, the way the smoke still tries to hurt him when it should’ve given up. He likes that nicotine doesn’t leave him alone.

Neil slips out the front door and lets the screen door clatter, and Andrew knows that he’s upset before he sits down two steps below Andrew, holding his own head.

He doesn’t ask; just smokes fervently. The moon bobs its head sympathetically, wind catches the smoke and breaks it over Neil’s head like water on rocks.

It occurs to Andrew that Neil isn’t going to start this conversation, because he likes to think things through on his own, solve them wrong, and tell Andrew about his mistakes later. He’s insufferably convinced of his own problem-solving abilities, then obsessed with the mechanism of his own missteps.

“What?” Andrew asks impatiently. He flicks ash from his cigarette and holds it out in front of Neil’s face. Neil sidles through his own tangled thinking for long enough to glance up. He leans forward and sucks the smoke from between Andrew’s fingers.

When he looks away, gusting smoke from his open mouth, he says, “Matt called. We fought.”

“You fought,” Andrew guesses.

Neil looks agitated, blue in the choked light, eyes black and furious. “He was being unfair. He keeps trying to tell me what’s right or wrong lately, because he thinks I’ve been— been deprived, like my experiences were outside of humanity, or morality, and it’s so— condescending.”

“You’re only realizing this now? All of the foxes are condescending. It is the only way they can avoid their own failure.”

“This was different,” Neil says, shaking his head. “I can tell when they’re saying things because they want to see my reaction, and this wasn’t that. He meant what he was saying.”

“And what was that?”

Neil goes gagged silent. He shifts backwards up to Andrew’s stair without looking at him, settling into the groove worn into the wood.

“That killing someone makes you a monster. That murder is the worst thing you can do to a person.”

Y/N was not a partier. It wasn’t that she was shy or didn’t like them. It was just that she was introverted and partying took a lot out of her (Also, she couldn’t hang like she used to. By 10pm, when most parties were kicking off, she was ready to drag herself into bed). However, when Harry Styles says he wants to see you at a party, you go to that party.

She’d been iffy after she met him at Starbucks about actually getting tickets to the show. Still, a few hours later, she found herself at Will Call, chewing nervously on her bottom lip in hopes that he was serious about what he said previously. And, he was. Relief flooded her as she was slid two tickets along with a piece of paper that held an address on it. She presumed it to be the location of the after party and slid it into her back pocket.

Her nerves were bouncing all over the place as she stood in line to enter the venue. Her feelings were put to the side, however, as she saw a girl get turned away at the door and her friend stood staring wide eyed with her jaw dropped. She instantly was moved to action. As she neared the front of the line, she could hear the girl who’s ticket was apparently fake, breathing through tears, telling her friend to go in without her, forcing a smile. “Wait!” she called out to them, not that either one of them were going anywhere. They were stood off to the side. “I just saw what happened, and I have two tickets. You could just trade me the one for these two.” She held the tickets out for them, as they eyeballed them.

“These are third row tickets. Mine isn’t even on the floor."

She shrugged, nonchalantly. "I’m just happy to be here.” And, she was considering three hours ago she didn’t even have tickets or an invitation to an after party extended by Mr. Harry Styles himself. After meeting him today, this was the least she could do.

“How do we know these are real?” The same girl asked, still eyeing the tickets suspiciously.

Seeing as they were still holding up the line, Y/N scurried over to the ticket checker, so she could scan the tickets. They checked out. The two girls quickly scrambled to her side, swapped tickets, and made their way inside the venue. Once in, they hugged each other tightly, crying (what she hoped to be) tears of joy, at the sudden turn of events before they turned to her and included her in the action, letting their appreciation known through muffled sobs. “How much do you want for it?” the girl who had the fake ticket asked once she got herself together.

She shook her head, giving them a small smile. “I don’t want your money.”

“Seriously? I can’t just let you do this. These must’ve cost a fortune.”

She didn’t want to reveal that she’d got them for little more than a cup of coffee, so she just shook her head politely once more. “Honestly. I’m fine. You two just have a good time.”

“I could get you a t shirt or a hat or one of those pins or–”

She cut the girl off since she was so insistent upon repaying her in some way—which seemed to be a common theme for her today. “Water! And some popcorn, if you must.”

The girls beamed at her as they made their way to the concession stand. They did not stop talking the entire time, not that she minded. They thanked her endlessly and chatted a bit about Harry, but finally parted ways with her, giving one final hug, when they noticed the time and the length of the merch line, and she went to go find her new seat.

—–

In hindsight, she was glad she wasn’t sitting in the third row. After she played it relatively cool that afternoon it would’ve been moderately embarrassing for him to see the way she sobbed as soon as his silhouette appeared straight through Ever Since New York, only regaining slight composure once the bridge hit. But, really, she was a mess throughout the entire concert. So, not only did she do those girls a favour but also herself and possibly Harry.

The kind, older lady sat in front of her, whom she’d made friends with, let her borrow her binoculars a few times throughout the show and it wasn’t lost on her the slight look of confusion (or perhaps disappointment, but that was wishful thinking) she saw on his face when he really looked into the first couple rows of the crowd.

Her presence, or seemingly lack there of, had absolutely no impact on his performance, though. It was arguably the best concert she’d ever been to. She felt so at home with all the Harries screaming their heads off and just going completely nuts, as per Harry’s request, during the show.

However, the same could not be said for the after party. She was a fan. She didn’t have any connections or friends or any real reason to be there other than the haphazard invitation Harry extended to her earlier in the day. That thought carried her straight to the open bar, where she ordered a Long Island iced tea, then caused her to beeline for one of the outer walls. She meandered around the outside of the party watching everyone mingle, only offering a few smiles to those who passed.

It seemed as though her presence was going to go unnoticed, not that she was doing much of a job at being approachable, as she contemplated on getting another drink, having sipped hers down over the hour she’d been at the lounge, or leaving altogether. She jumped when she felt a firm grasp on her elbow, breaking her line of thought.

She hadn’t planned on doing a lot of things that day, but it’s safe to say that getting kidnapped topped that list. Her mind was eased as she turned around to see Harry gripping her, no longer donned in his Gucci suit but looking good nonetheless. She wasn’t quite sure what to say to him so she just grinned at him, subtly looking between his face and her arm before he got the hint and let her go.

She furrowed her eyebrows, not quite sure where he got that notion from. He answered the question she hadn’t even gotten the chance to ask yet, almost immediately after seeing her expression. “You weren’t in the crowd. I literally scanned all the front rows.”

“Ohhhh. No, I went. I didn’t sit there, though.”

“If you had tickets, you should’ve just told me.”

Her face contorted into something that was halfway between confusion and amusement. “Why are you assuming I lied to you earlier? I was waiting in line after picking my tickets up and I saw these two girls. One, apparently, had purchased a fake ticket and instead of holding onto those two tickets, I swapped with the one girl who had a legitimate ticket and just gave them the ones you got me.”

His mouth opened and closed a few times. “Sorry I–”

“Was just wondering how to get your exceptionally large foot out of your even larger mouth?” she finished, rolling her eyes, teetering between the lines of annoyed and amused.

“That was really lovely,” he settled upon as a response.

She shrugged. “Treat people with kindness, right?”

Dimples coined into his cheeks. “Absolutely. Now… can I buy you a drink?”

“It’s an open bar.”

He looked at her like she was crazy, eyebrows shot up with his lips twisted together. “No, it’s not.”

“Oh. Well, you can pay for the Long Island iced tea I already accidentally stole and just get me a glass of water.”

“You sure?” he chuckled.

“Yes, sir.”

He headed to the bar as she turned around bowing raspberries into the air in an attempt to calm herself down.

All too soon, Harry was back, handing her her water, then slipping his hand into hers, leading her to a booth. Instead of sliding in across from her, he slid in directly next to her which sent her nerves in a frenzy. “Figured I’d sit over here, so I can hear you better. It’s quite loud in here.”

She chucked nervously, nodding in understanding, sipping on her water as he gulped down some of his drink. She couldn’t hold it in anymore. She had to ask. “What am I doing here?” she blurted before he could get a word out.

He puckered his lips to the side, furrowing his eyebrows. “I’m not quite sure what you mean…”

She splayed her hands out in front of them, releasing broken groans. “Like, bro, I just– I just bought you…. coffee! Now I’m sat in a booth with you at an after party. I’m not even, like–” she waved her hands in circles wildly.

He giggled, looking down at the table and shaking his head. “I just want to get to know you.”

“But, why?” She just couldn’t wrap her head around it. She wasn’t anything special. She wasn’t exceptionally beautiful or talented or smart. And, she knew, even past all her nerves, that Harry was just a normal guy as well, but why on earth would he spare her more than a passing glance?

“I just think you’re lovely.”

She glared at him. She needed more of an explanation than that.

“The guy at Starbucks told me you didn’t want him to tell me that you paid for my coffee. And, then you told me yourself that you didn’t expect anything out of it.. And, you gave up your tickets for one in the back. And, I saw you when you first came in, and in the least creepy way possible, I just sort of watched you bounce around smiling, bopping around to the music, chatting with a few people. Also, you haven’t even asked for a picture. Not that I mind when people ask me, but I don’t know, it just, I don’t know,you don’t want anything. It’s, uh– You’re lovely.”

She was stunned. Partly because of what was said and partly because of who said it. She just stared at him, not knowing how to reply.

“Well, say something.” He laughed, eyes skipping around the room. He wasn’t quite prepared to look straight at her. “Christ, talking to girls is just as terrifying as always.”

Her face lit up and broke into a wide grin. “You’re talking to me?”

“You’re the only other person in the booth, aren’t you?”

She shook her head. “No, like, you’re talking to me. You’re chatting me up? Are you putting the moves on me, Styles? Is this what this is?”

He bumped her shoulder with his. “Piss off.”

They smiled at each other and all the possibilities.. Hers faltered after a few moments. “You’re on tour.”

“I am,” he confirmed.

She clasped her hand on top of his. “Harry, in a few days, I won’t even be a passing thought. Maybe the next time you go into Starbucks I’ll be that one chick that bought you something, but nothing more."

His face dropped into a pout. "You’re not even going to give me a chance?”

She quirked her lip upwards and shrugged slightly. “I couldn’t ask for that kind of commitment from you.”

“Baby, I just want to get to know you,” he said in a voice all slow and thick and deep.

She wasn’t sure at which point they shifted that much closer together, but he was resting his forehead against hers leaving her breathless. Naturally, she sputtered out a few strings of laughter. “One thing you should know about me is that I’m uncomfortable in most social situations."

"Duly noted,” he stated, rolling his eyes because she completely ruined the mood he set, head following suit and backing up a few inches.

“So… just friends?”

He scratched the back of his neck. “Sure."He gulped down the remainder of his drink while she sipped on her water. Neither of them were 100% satisfied with the arrangement, but someone had to be rational. She kept telling herself that she was doing the right thing. "Actually, can I kiss you?”

For the second time that night, she was rendered completely speechless. Y/N had been exercising extreme self-control up to that point. She didn’t have an anxiety attack when she met him the first time. She gave up amazing seats to see him (¼ of the biggest band in the world!). She turned him down when he came onto her. But, she couldn’t find it in herself to reject the chance to feel those lips on hers.. Like she imagined meeting him, she imagined kissing him a million times, but nothing compared to the fluffy, pillowy sensation that washed over her body when she nodded meekly at his request, sliding her hands up to grasp his face.

It wasn’t like a full blown snog. It was short and sweet, but that knowledge didn’t do anything to quell the butterflies that took flight in her stomach. She kept her eyes closed and hands on his face for a good five seconds after the kiss ended, simply basking in it. “Maybe we can be a little more than friends.”

“Yeah?” he questioned, optimism laced in his every word, before pushing his lips back to hers for a few more seconds.

“Yeah, but, maybe later. When you’re not so busy. After tour ends, if you even remember me.”

“I have a feeling you’ll be one of the few people I can’t forget.” His face set into that signature lopsided smirk.

Jake was a romantic at heart and a huge fan of old b+w movies, and he and Clarke went to the old local movie theatre every Sunday to watch them. So when Jake dies, Clarke carries on the Sunday tradition alone…til, one Sunday, she meets Lexa.

The funeral was at 1pm.

At six-thirty, with no will left for the rest of the people that crowded in her house, the only daughter left the wake without a single word. Wondered straight out off of the porch with no real thought at all, not even missed by anyone in particular.

Hello friends! Mafia/gang au were always my favourite after watching KHR haha. So I finally gave a shot at it! I was really inspired by two amazing tumblr writers so I would like to thank them for motivating me to write after reading their work! A massive thank you to @narika-a who wrote a scenario with mafia GOT7, the plot of this fic is mainly developed from their scenario with Youngjae. And a special thank you to @jungk0oksthighs​ and their amazing mafia au fic giving me the final push to write this! I hope everyone enjoys it!

Summary: Jaebum is one of the most notorious gang leaders in South Korea. He is merciless and brutal allowing him and his group, GOT7, to own most of Seoul. One day he goes after a young female who happened to be interfering with his business, who ultimately stole 40 grand from him. However, he got the wrong girl. She was nothing but a poor student who worked overtime at night to pay for her rent, and when she’s not busy with school or work her favourite pass time was to give Jaebum a never-ending headache. The girl didn’t steal 40 grand from him. She stole so much more, his heart.

Jaebum pov

I watch her through the tinted windows of my car before wandering to the red digital numbers glowing on the dashboard. It read exactly 2 AM on the dot. A small smirk stretches across my face as I watch her bend over to lock the front doors of the run down pub cueing me to proceed with the schedule. It was all perfectly timed, in exactly 5 minutes she will be in the optimal position. I slip out of the black Camaro closely following her in her haste footsteps as she made her way back to her dingy apartment. At exactly 5 minutes time she stood in front of the dark alley, wasting no time I lunged forward grabbing her by the back of her jacket’s collar and pulled her into the dead end. She opened her mouth to scream so I quickly shut her up by slamming her small frame into the graffiti covered brick wall. She lets out a small cry which was then quickly followed by soft sniffles. Her body quakes under my strong grip and I almost felt slightly bad, just almost.

“Stop crying!” I order turning her around to face her tear streaked face.

Her eyes were squeezed shut in utter terror.

“Yah look at me girly, that’s the least you could do after stealing over 40 grand from my business!”

To say I was taken aback was an understatement when she started to yell.

“I don’t know what you are talking about! I’m dirt broke! Why else do you think I am out this late working at a shitty run down pub in the fucking ghettos?! I already had a shit day with creeps like you trying to take me home so for gods sake just leave me alone!” She screams finally opening her eyes to reveal the warmest (e/c) hue I’ve ever seen.

I would be more appreciative of them if they weren’t full of rage and sending daggers into my soul. I shook my head to clear out the doubts that started to swim in my mind. My perfect plan was flawless to the second but a small detail may have been missed, I may have gotten the wrong girl? No impossible, she must be acting innocent.

“Don’t lie to me!” I yell out in frustration causing her frustration to skyrocket as well.

She flails her arms smacking me in the face causing my already boiling anger to overflow.

“Let go of me you freak! Do you think I would be out here in shit city at 2 AM if I stole 40k from you? No! I would be at home rolling in silk sheets in piles of money you idiot!”

Okay I’ll admit, even though she was infuriating seeing that she was so keen on lying I couldn’t help but find her charming, especially at the wild reasoning she spewed on about. I roll my eyes roughly turning her to face the wall once again.

“Alright, that was funny at first but now I’m done,” I sigh ripping her long wool jacket clean off her back.

The seams of her coat tore open with a satisfying pop along with the plain white t-shirt she wore underneath. I toss the torn fabric across the snow covered alleyway leaving her cold and vulnerable in the cold night air. Her fierce aura left her body as quick as it came as she started sobbing once more, hugging herself as she stood there hunched over with a thin ripped shirt. I could clearly see the cold winter air biting at her bare skin where goose bumps started to form, however I couldn’t seem to find the signature dragon tattoo that was supposed to litter the vast majority of her back. At that moment I knew I fucked up.

“Fuck…fuck I’m so sorry. I-I got the wrong person. Haha surprise?” I nervously grin finally letting her out of my iron grip that will probably cause bruises to bloom all over her body later from man handling her.

Her lips quiver as she spares me one final look with her large doe eyes before bursting out in tears and making a mad dash out of the alley.

“Hey!” I called out, it wasn’t supposed to sound so threatening but I guess being friendly and approachable was not my forte. At my voice she sped up, disappearing around the corner.

“Fuck!” I hiss under my breath, kicking her jacket out of the way to follow her.

◆ ——— SAW SENTENCE STARTERS.

’ I want to play a game. ’
’ My name is Very Fucking Confused; what’s your name? ’
’ Most people are so ungrateful to be alive, but not you, not any more… ’
’ I’m having a blast! This is the most fun I’ve had without lubricant! ’
’ I want you to make a choice. ’
’ Listen carefully, if you will. There are rules. ’
’ What’s the last thing you remember? ’
’ I went to bed in my shithole apartment, and I woke up in an actual shithole. ’
’ I’m sick from the disease eating away at me inside… ’
’ I’m sick of people who don’t appreciate their blessings… ’
’ I’m a kill you, you sick asshole! ’
’ Congratulations. You are still alive. ’
’ Most people are so ungrateful to be alive. But not you. ’
’ You don’t know me, but I know you. ’
’ Live or die, make your choice. ’
’ You’re probably wondering where you are. ’
’ Now I see you as a strange mix of someone angry, yet apathetic. ’
’ At least we’ll have the cover of darkness. ’
’ Help! Someone help me! Is someone there? ’
’ Hey! Oh shit, I’m probably dead. ’
’ Who said anything about a warrant? ’
’ If you are so sick then why do I have so many photos of you up and about? ’
’ How much blood will you shed to stay alive? ’
’ I’ll leave you in this room to rot. ’
’ I know it’s you, you son of a bitch! ’
’ My camera, it doesn’t know how to lie. ’
’ You tell anyone you were here? ’
’ Stop the lies! You’re a liar! I need to know the truth! ’
’ You don’t recall getting your picture taken in that parking lot? ’
’ How can you go through life pretending that you’re happy? ’
’ Does that mean you saw what happened to me? ’
’ Oh for fuck’s sake! I give up! ’
’ You think it is over, but the games have just begun. ’
’ You feel you now have control, don’t you? ’
’ I don’t have a fucking soul… ’
’ Will you learn how to let go and truly save them? ’
’ What you can’t do, is save everyone. ’
’ I promise that my work will continue. ’
’ If you can’t do it for me, do it for yourself. ’
’ I do, but addiction has ruined your life. ’
’ I’m bleeding man. Please just let me go. ’
’ Killing is distasteful… to me. ’
’ How did you walk out of that building? ’
’ So unless you’ve got something else to say… back the fuck off. ’
’ Playing with matches again? ’
’ I want to know if you have what it takes to survive. ’
’ They say imitation is the most sincere form of flattery… ’
’ We killed eight people and stole a property and nobody cared. ’
’ Why? Was it for money? This was your plan? ’
’ You’re a monster! ’
’ Fix me, you motherfucker! ’
’ Why don’t you fucking tell me something that I don’t know, you stupid cunt?! ’
’ For three years I wanted to kill you. ’
’ I’m never gonna be able to forgive myself for what happened. ’
’ You may not remember me, but I most certainly remember you. ’
’ There’s no preventative treatment for what you have. ’
’ Please don’t do this to me. I have a family. ’
’ You’re asking me to do the impossible. ’
’ I’m sorry, but your own actions have caused this. ’
’ What?! What am I supposed to learn from this?! ’
’ This is the piece taken from the latest victim. ’
’ How many next times are there gonna be? ’
’ Get used to me, ‘cause I’m not going anywhere. ’
’ When the time’s right, you’ll know what to do with it. ’
’ That rolled off your tongue real smooth. ’
’ Wait! What the fuck are you doing?! ’
’ Please don’t let me die! Please don’t! ’
’ Oh, well that’s it, isn’t it?! It’s over! ’
’ Look at me! When you’re killing me, you look at me! ’
’ I never saw any indication of psychotic behavior. ’
’ You can never really tell what someone’s thinking on the inside. ’
’ Well, there’s a problem with that, though. ’
’ Go on, fucking pussy! Go! Go! Go! ’
’ Maybe addiction’s just part of human nature. ’
’ Remember, don’t trust the one who saves you. ’
’ You want a chance? I’ll give you a chance. ’
’ What do you mean you don’t know about this? ’
’ You didn’t cut your own arm off? ’
’ What condition? There is no condition. ’
’ I didn’t have it penciled in on my schedule. ’
’ It’s not the first time some psychopath called me out. ’
’ That’s a problem you’re gonna have to solve before it’s too late. ’
’ How do you just wake up in a room and have no idea where you are? ’
’ I guess you’ve never been drunk before. ’
’ I spent three years at college drunk. ’
’ You asked me what I wanted and I told you. ’
’ You seem to know a whole lot about me. ’
’ I feel a whole lot of things right now. ’
’ The only dooryou know how to open… is between your legs! ’
’ Why don’t you shut the hell up?! ’
’ That’s your luck, bending on over in prison, you little dickhead! ’
’ If you’re gonna threaten me with a knife, you might as well cut me a little. ’
’ You savor everything, be it a glass of water or a walk in the park. ’
’ It’s the tool, thats going to save your soul. ’
’ I didn’t do anything to you! ’
’ Don’t open the door! ’
’ You have to save yourself. ’
’ Do you wanna play a game? ’
’ That’s exactly it, you didn’t do anything. ’
’ You identify more with a cold corpse than you do with a living human. ’
’ You should know better than anyone, what happens then. ’
’ I go for the neck, but I’m not the brain surgeon. ’
’ Now you better start fucking paying attention. ’
’ Suffering? You haven’t seen anything yet. ’
’ Yeah, that’s right. I’m a murderer. ’
’ So, do you have everything you need? ’
’ You’d be surprised what tools can save a life. ’
’ Then help me! Fix me! Fix me motherfucker! I’m standing right here! ’
’ You have to play by the fucking rules! ’
’ The human body is a miraculous creation. ’
’ Game over. ’

Most recently, Tom Holland had branched from your Marvel obsession, having stolen your heart when you first watched Spider-Man: Homecoming.

“Hey everyone! Just came home from SM:HC, so slowly watch as my Twitter becomes strictly a Tom Holland fan account!” you tweeted.

Your post went viral as many of your followers and the general public agreed with you.
Throughout the next weeks, you tweeted frequently about events such as The Brother’s Trust meet and greet, the Tokyo premiere, and the infamous “Hoodiegate” aka Tom’s incessant teasing about his haircut.

You had the typical fangirl tweets, including praising Tom for his work and admiring his looks, but you also had no problem roasting him as well. For example, a thread of examples of when he was an asshole became wildly popular and gained a lot of attention; some of it coming from the boys themselves. Harrison followed and quoted it with a “This could not be more accurate, mate @TomHolland1996”, which prompted Tom to like and retweet it, and Harry liked it, as well.

One day, on a whim, you decided to post your personal Instagram handle. You had no shame about people figuring out who you were; plus, you kept your Instagram clear of locations and clues about where you might live: “Alright here goes nothing! Follow my personal Instagram, @(your-user)! Hopefully none of you are lunatics, and I’ll be following some of you as well!"

Thousands of new followers appeared on Instagram, all incredibly happy about your newly public profile. You decided to turn off notifications to only show you things from users that you followed. It was beneficial that you did, for you would’ve missed it when your phone lit up with an important Instagram notification.

(your-user): tomholland2013 started following you.

Quickly followed by, (your user): tomholland2013: I hope you don’t qualify me as a lunatic 😅

Shocked, you quickly screenshotted this monumental moment. After a few minutes of calming yourself down, you opened Instagram. Hoards of comments and messages of congratulations all came pouring in, but you only were focused on one message.

"Eh, I don’t REALLY know you. So, I can’t say for sure. But, from your pictures you look pretty normal! And you did some movies? That’s cool! I may have seen them 🤔"

You tried to keep it light and funny, as your Twitter was basically a huge Tom Holland roast. "By the way, thanks for following!” you quickly sent, showing your authentic gratitude. Putting your phone down, you went to get some water, as you felt very dizzy.

He probably won’t reply for a while at least, you thought. Or maybe not at all. He’s busy. Except, when you returned to your phone, another message had come onto your screen.

“haha i mean I dont really know you either. Maybe you’re the actual lunatic in this situation?” Another message came in, “but seriously, no problem at all xx. I’ve stalked your twitter so… I feel like this is only right 😂”

"Hope you didn’t find anything too embarrassing. So, does this make us internet friends? 😎"

Latte ship: Matt immediately falling for Lance, and ridiculously oblivious Lance who thinks they are becoming bros until Matt literally gibes up trying to woo him and just flat out kisses him

Thanks for the request! Here it is:

(I’ll post this on Ao3 later. Right now it’s having some issues so I’ll add a link when I do it.)

When the team had discovered Matt Shiro and Pidge were ecstatic. There were some hugs, some tears, and more hugs as they brought him back to the castle through the green lion.

After landing Blue gently in her hanger, Lance rushed to the common area, the last to arrive. Shiro, Matt, and Pidge were talking animatedly in the middle of the room as the others sat around on the couches, a pleased hum permeating the room after the successful mission. He moved forward, slipping into the gap between Shiro and Pidge. As he got a look at Pidge’s brother he felt his face heat up.

Matt looked almost exactly like Pidge, but his face was a little sharper, a little older and a shock of white like Shiro’s ran through the fringe on his left. In other words he made Lance’s heart speed up a little. Matt turned, stopping mid sentence as their eyes met. Lance was frozen and Matt marched forward, sticking his hand out.

“Gross Matt.” Pidge shoved her brother half-heartedly, breaking the connection between their hands.

Lance smiled awkwardly. Was he actually flirting? “He was just joking around Pidge.” No, people didn’t flirt with Lance. Lance flirted with others and was rejected or betrayed, that’s how things went. He turned to Matt, “Are you a thief? Cause i’m pretty sure you just stole my heart.” He snapped some finger guns and gave a cocky smile as Matt laughed. They were gonna get along just fine.

——-

Throughout the next couple months Matt spent most of his time with Pidge or Shiro, but he always made time for Lance. Their meetings usually started with a pick up line from Matt, and they were never the same.

“I’m no photographer but I can picture us together.”

“Is your name Wi-Fi? Because I’m feeling a connection.”

“Your eyes are blue, like the ocean. And baby, I’m lost at sea.”

Lance usually responded with his own joking line as Pidge and Shiro (and the others but not as prominently) would groan in the background. He and Matt actually grew pretty close though.. As Matt got more comfortable around the castle they began to spend more and more time together, talking about everything from the best memes to more serious subjects like Matt’s time with the Galra or Lance’s insecurities. More than once there were some comforting hugs and touches.

It was a night like those when Lance realized he’d fallen for Matt. They’d been discussing what they would do when they got back to Earth. Lance had told tales of garlic knots and Cuban beaches and of how he wanted to see his family again, show them how much he’d grown. After a while their shoulders had pressed together as they looked out a window into space.

“I think I’d take like a month to just play all the video games that came out and browse tumblr for all the memes that i missed. Hey, maybe you could come with me! We could co-op on some of the stuff or we could just hang! Wouldn’t that be awesome?” Matt had such a hopeful look on his face. The light brown in Matt’s eyes mixed with the colors of the universe around them. He was gorgeous. Lance felt his chest tighten.

“Yeah.” He whispered. He was so screwed. “That would be very awesome.”

——-

Surprisingly their confession wasn’t such a romantic moment. They’d been playing Mario Kart on the system that Pidge and Hunk had rigged up to the Altean version of a Tv when Matt had paused the game. Lance turned, about to question why he’d stopped when Matt blurted out a pick up line. “Your lips look lonely. Would they like to meet mine?”

Lance flushed, internally berating himself for reacting. He couldn’t really think of a good response though, and settle for a wobbly smile. “That’s a good one dude.” He moved his gaze back to the game but didn’t get chance to start playing.

Two hands gripped his collar with a rushed, “For fuck’s sake.” Lance was pulled to the side and lips smashed against his own. Momentarily stunned Lance froze, mentally rebooting. Matt was kissing him. HolyshitMattwaskissinghim.

Matt pulled back, eyes searching Lance’s face and releasing his hands. Panic washed over his features. “Oh my god, I am so sorry I should have known you didn’t feel the same-”

The rest of Matt’s apology faded into the background to Lance as he rushed forward, knocking Matt onto his back and shoving their mouths back together, holding himself up. It was just pressure, but lips began to move and glide together gently in a slow dance as they relaxed into the motions. Matt’s lips were cracked in a stark contrast to Lance’s own, but he didn’t care. Hands threaded themselves in Lance’s hair. A leg rose to nudge against his hip and Lance found himself on his back, Matt leaning over him. While his left remained in Lance’s hair, Matt’s right hand stroked his cheek.

“I’m going to assume that means you like me too?”

Lance could only nod, a little overwhelmed, but loving it anyway. Matt grinned and pressed his palm more firmly to the underside of Lance’s jaw and dragged his lips over Lance’s again. Hot was about the only thought that Lance could solidly form. The thumb stroking over his pulse and the fingernails scratching against his scalp flushed heat from his face to his toes. Lance gripped the side of Matt’s shirt over his ribs, pulling the boy on top of him, chests flush.

A wet stroke passed over Lance’s bottom lip, followed by the sharp, but gentle press of teeth. A small gasp passed Lance’s mouth, and he had begun to open for Matt when a voice interrupted.

“Hey Lance, I need my brother back so if you- AAAH MY EYES!” Pidge screeched and covered her eyes with the data pad she had been focused on. Lance and Matt flinched back from one another and turned to Pidge, but she had already run out of the room.

They laughed, leaning into one another. As they settled down, fingers threaded through Lance’s and he gripped them back. Maybe he wasn’t so screwed.

It had been a week, a long week. Y/N was fired, the company did not want to be linked with the press that came with Y/N. She had been harassed, not just on social media, but the photographers were letting their hands wonder on her body, her dad could hardly look at her, her family wouldn’t talk to her.

She wouldn’t get out of bed, she wouldn’t eat. She would just lay there, wrapped in the white sheets, dark circles under her eyes, her usual bright eyes were dull, no emotions, no feelings, she would just stare at the ceiling, or stare at Harry.

He would bring food up to her, he would bring her water, snack, anything he could, but she refused them all. Occasionally she would drink and have a couple of chips, but it was rare, it hardly happened. He could hear her cries, he could feel her pain.

“Thank you so much for understanding James,” Harry says into the phone, leaning against the door way, watching her.

She was asleep, as usual, her eyes closed, lips parted as soft snores left her mouth, “I understand, we can find another week,” James says into the phone, “how is everything?”

“‘s not good,” Harry responds, “I offered to go to my mum’s, she could stay there for the week, and she said no, I just-I can’t leave her alone right now. It’s my fault.”

“You’re young, you’re doing what young people do,” James says, “sadly you just have the whole world watching you, watching her.”

“‘s not fair to her,” Harry frowned.

“You’re right, and it’s not fair to you, but it happened, it’s done. Now you just have to work through it, together,” James says.

She stirs in bed and Harry stands, “I’ll call you later, I’m so sorry.”

He hangs up, taking his spot next to her on the bed, and praying that she’ll wake up, that she’ll smile at him.

“Morning,” she croaks, sitting in bed, knees to her chest, Harry looks up from the door way, wrapping his towel around his waist.

“Glad to see you awake,” he smiled softly, grabbing a shirt.

She looks at the sheets in front of her, “it’s Gem’s birthday,” she whispered, “promised her I would go.”

She just stands, walking to the closet, “if it gets too much we can leave,” Harry promises.

Anne’s house is filled with family, Gemma’s work friends, and neighbors. Harry steps in first, he immediately feels her grip tighten on his hand, her other hand coming up to his arm as she holds on to him, hiding behind his tall and lanky frame.

She keeps close to Harry all night, trying to not pay any mind to the others. They stand whispering and pointing, she even caught one person glancing between their phone and her, making sure it was the right person.

She felt naked, she knew she was dressed. She could feel the long sleeved dress hugging her body, she could feel the fabric, but it didn’t matter. Every one saw the freckle on her stomach, the one on her right breast, they all knew about the stretch marks on her lower stomach, they had all seen her. They had all seen every inch of her.

“I’m gonna run to the bathroom,” Harry says to her, “will you be okay?”

He tilts her chin up, concerned eyes on her, “yeah,” she nods, he presses a soft kiss on her lips and slips away.

“Y/N right?” a man says, he stands in Harry’s old spot, “‘m Fred, I work with Gemma.”

“Nice to meet you,” she whispered.

Fred steps closer, close enough she can smell the alcohol on his breath, “I’m Harry’s girlfriend.”

“I think you’re lovely,” he ignored her last remarks, placing a hand on her waist.

“Please get off,” she says, her heart racing.

His hand lowers to her butt, giving it a hard squeeze, she screeched. Shoving him off, or attempting but he doesn’t break, “get away from her,” Anne snaps, walking into the kitchen, “and get the hell out of my house.”

She stumbled but Anne grips on to her, helping her. Her once full of life eyes stay on where Fred had just walked out, Anne holds her, rubbing her arm, “don’t listen to him honey, please don’t listen to him,” Anne whispered in her ear.

“What an asshole,” Gemma hissed, embracing Y/N.

Gemma runs her hands through Y/N’s hair, “I’m so sorry Y/N, you didn’t deserve that, you don’t deserve any of this,” she whispered.

“I-I shouldn’t have taken them,” Y/N sobs.

Gemma’s eyes snap up as someone walks in. Harry stands, his eyes softening at the sight, Gemma keeps Y/N in her arms, rubbing her back, “we love you Y/N and those pictures didn’t change anything,” Anne says softly, “you have us, you have Harry, you’re family, those pictures do not define you. Who ever stole them is a horrible person.”

As Anne explains the story Y/N takes the time to slip away to the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror. She fixes the smudged mascara, wiping it away with toilet paper. She takes in a deep breath, trying to relax.

The door opens and Harry peaks in, a small smile on his face, “you’re moms kind of a badass, I’ve never seen her that angry,” she says, sniffling.

“That’s cause no one messes with her family,” Harry chuckled, closing the door behind him, “how you holding up.”

“I’ll be okay,” she promises, wrapping her arms around him, “I have a lovely boyfriend and his family for support.”

“We are pretty cool,” Harry says, a proud smile on his face.

“I don’t blame you,” she says, “I promise.”

“We’ll get through this together, and you know what, Jack was a dumbass in firing you, you were the best worker,” Harry stated, “we can get you a new and much better job.”

“And anyone who thinks these pictures are an excuse to grab you are sick perverts and will have to go through me, we are a team Y/N. You get hurt, I get hurt, we will work through this together okay?” Harry’s hands come to her cheeks, cupping them.

It’s no secret that I hate art thieves, but if anyone thinks for a single second that they can STEAL from CHARITY for their own personal gain, then they are the lowest of the low. These are the people you’re stealing from. I honestly don’t know how anyone could be that selfish. If you see people stealing art (ever, but especially from a charity project), please, please call them out and inform the artist so they can file a copyright violation. We as a fandom are better than this kind of despicable behavior. We as human beings should be better.

As always, please don’t harass these people (though you can leave non-threatening messages asking them to stop and you can @ tag the artist on the repost so other people who see it know not to like it).

And in case anyone is wondering if talking to these people (instead of reporting them) will help:

No one’s laughing, dude. Almost all of these have either no credit or intentionally misspelled credit (so that you can’t find the original artist).

Links below for two different massive art thief accounts (some of you are tagged twice).

A/N: Soooooo, I’ve been watching so much Shameless this past week, it’s crazy. (SPN forever though!) I said it inspired the last fic, but maybe it inspired this one as well. This is pretty different and it’s an AU! The angels are humans.

Also, I’m thinking about making more parts of this, if you like it. So if you want more, let me know - and your request is my demand. I’ll tell you more about it later, if it follows through. Also, I tagged less people in this one since I didn’t know who’d want to read this. But, I still included all of the SPN (Sisfic) Taglist since it’s not only for Winchester!sister fics. Although, feel free to ignore as always! Hopefully I didn’t bother anyone.

I LOVE ART AND ART MUSEUMS. do you think you could write a little thing about going to an art museum with Harry and he's super turned on by how into art you are. And maybe you like the macabre type of stuff and it's so unexpected bc you're such a bubbly person but you actually like the darker art?

Wednesday

So the role playing didn’t work out. I kind of expected that. Harry and I were never into that kind of stuff. We had fun in bed, don’t get me wrong. But like he said, sex for us was a real connection and introducing gimmicks just wasn’t what we were about. I tucked the Snow White outfit far far in the back of my closet.

I had to admit the lingerie I’d chosen for that evening was probably my favorite out of everything I’d chosen. It was cut to my body perfectly, even giving me the appearance of a flat stomach and some boobs. The sales girl where I’d bought it should’ve gotten a raise for suggesting it.

The only problem was that Harry and I had a benefit to attend and there was no telling how long it was going to go. It was at the Getty and I’d never been there. Even though I wanted to continue on with my experiment, I was also excited to see all the pieces displayed. It had been awhile since Harry and I had gotten to enjoy some culture and both of us were ready for a night out.

After getting the chosen lingerie on for that evening, I liked wearing it so much I didn’t want to take it off. So I slipped my dress on over it and called it a day.

The moment we walked into the building, Harry was whisked away by industry folk and friends. He had networking to do. I’d dated him long enough to know I didn’t need to be a part of it. Most of the conversations were important for him but insanely boring for me. So I stole myself away to the rest of the museum.

When would I ever get the opportunity to walk around the Getty alone without people getting in my way or bugging me while I tried to admire the pieces? I intended to take full advantage. I slipped away, passing a security guard who winked at me but didn’t stop me from passing the velvet ropes and making my way to the rest of the museum.

Summary: It’s their first time sleeping together on the same bed and Kaneki can’t take his hands off Touka.

I totally hate this, it looked so much better inside my head, my inspiration sucks—i’m super tired right now& i can’t speak proper english today, but i really wanted to take this idea off my head AAAAND give this to @yorozuya-ken-chan as her birthday gift 😭 ♡ I LOVE YOU ANITA, this is so crappy, i’m so sorry -sobs- i promise i’ll write you something 2369726 better next time, WAIT FOR ME🙏 (the only good thing about this is the ending, huehue, jon&ygritte hints)

i wanted to make this a smut but i really feel like the words aren’t coming to my head today, so this is just… a bit lime? not even a lime 😂 shame on me.. anyway, take this more like a lazy headcanon instead of a well-written fic *sobs* i’ll bring good smut soon.. I promise, ANITA DESERVES BETTER ✨

Since people apparently really liked Ada, my joy poppet, I thought that maybe some of you would like a tutorial… So here goes!

Disclaimer: Since I’m in the broom closet and that I’m a real life dollmaker, I tend to make my poppets as complex and “clean looking” as possible so that people assume it’s just yet another of my dolls. You definitely don’t have to do it the way I do it, or even to follow a remotely similar aesthetic.

You’ll need:

• some paper• a pen• scissors• fabric (stretchy is best for beginners)• a sewing needle and some thread• herbs• crystals• small items• a taglock (since I only do these poppets for my own use, I use a small lock of my hair)• stuffing• something blunt and long, like a screwdriver.

First, draw the body’s silhouette on paper. I try to make mine fairly symmetrical because it makes creating the clothes easier but it’s not necessary. Also, you should think about what you’re planning to use your poppet for. For example, Ada’s job is to bring more happiness in my life and help me fight off anxiety, so she’s shaped like a cat because cats make me happy. Lucia, which I’ll be building in this tutorial, is a mourning poppet: her job is to help me mourn my father, dull the pain and help me accept that everything must end, so she’ll be shaped like a skeleton. Think about what your poppet is for, choose its body accordingly.

Then do an arm and a leg the same way. As you can see, I tried giving her a little hand and curved the foott, but a simple rectangle will do the job just as well. Her leg here is super short because I’m going to make her boots out of polymer clay. I don’t need it to be as long as it should since I’ll glue the boots on later.

Now pick a fabric and draw each part twice. Chose the color accordingly to your poppet’s purpose and your personal taste. Also, if your poppet is going to be small like Ada and/or you’re a beginner… Pick some stretchy fabric, like an old t-shirt! Afterward you’ll have to turn it inside out and the stiffer the fabric, the more you’ll cry. Trust me.

Using an old t-shirt you don’t wear anymore makes your poppet even more personal! Yet another side benefit of loving yourself instead of keeping on using linen because you love the feel of it, but your poppets are pretty much drenched by tears of frustration by the time you’re done. Why do I keep doing that.

Now cut the silhouettes off, leaving some wiggle room. If you use a fabric that doesn’t fray, like an old t-shirt hint hint, you don’t have to leave a huge amount of fabric on the side. If you picked something that was probably weaved in hell, like satin, get your pinking shears out. if you don’t have pinking shears, use some fabric glue to stop the fraying. If you don’t have fabric glue, well. Good luck.

I sorta forgot to take pictures of the in-between stage, sorry. So uh. Just sew the two body silhouettes together, and each limbs, folding them on themselves. Remember to leave a hole big enough so that you can turn everything inside out.

Don’t worry too much about it being perfect: as long as it’s tight enough to not spill the stuffing, it’s good enough. While I try to make my seam lines as discreet as possible (to be more discreet about my practice), I find contrasting seams super appealing visually. So if you want to experiment with that, knock yourself out.

Start stuffing the limbs. For Lucia, I’m using the stuffing I stole from an old pillow. For Ada, I used leftover wool because that’s what I had handy. For others I used rice. Whatever works for you. As you can see, I’m using a screwdriver to push each little cotton ball all the way down. Don’t stuff the arms too much, or your poppet won’t be able to lower it arms. Unless that’s what you want.

For the body, I usually just stuff the head and the bottom of the body with cotton balls and then keep the belly and chest empty so I can fill it up with herbs and items. You could fully stuff the poppet with herbs if you’d like, or just mix a pinch with the cotton balls. See what works best for you.

Here Lucia already has one arm sewed on because I got impatient.

Here, I got my herbs ready in my mortar and put them in a small cup for easy access. Start filling up the poppet’s chest and belly (but not too much, you want some space left). Just so you know, that step tends to be pretty messy so… Do that somewhere where getting herbs everywhere isn’t much of a problem.

I didn’t take the previous step in pictures, because the items I picked where pretty personal and I don’t feel like showing them. But I can list them.

Here’s what I put inside of her: • pink quartz (for love)• a skull bead (for death)• a taglock (I always use a lock of my hair tied with a red thread)• something that belonged to my dad (it was hard to let go of it)

Again, pick everything according to the poppet’s mission. If you give yours the job to ward off curses or to help you cast spells, your list will be probably very different from mine. Take time to research what you want to use, think of how it symbolizes her mission.

I sewed on the limbs because I felt like it. You can do this later if you want, it doesn’t really matter.

So now the step shown in this picture is “the letter”. It’s an important step because that’s where you state the poppet’s purpose. And it’s also where you name your poppet (names have power, take time to think about it)! It’s not a very complicated step, though, you just need a pen and some paper.

My letters usually go this way:

“Dear (name),

You are my (purpose) poppet. You will always do (thing). You will always help me with (thing) by doing (thing). I give you this (crystal) to symbolize (thing), this (item) to symbolize (thing), this (precious thing) to symbolize (thing). I also give you my (taglock) to symbolize our bound together.

With Love,

(my name)”

Personalize it whichever way you see fit. Fold the letter tightly, put it inside the poppet, finish filling it with the herbs.

Now that the poppet’s all filled up and ready, sew close the hole and sew on the limbs if you haven’t done it already. You can now give your poppet a face. You can embroider it, paint it with fabric paint or acrylic, or use beads, or markers, or buttons, or anything you want. Be as creative as you want.

Once you’re done, you can add a sigil on it (I like to do it some place others can’t see, like under the clothes), and give some hair and some clothes to your little one. Or don’t! It all comes down on your instincts now, what feels appropriate and what doesn’t. Even if your poppet isn’t perfect, take some time to appreciate its existence. At first there wasn’t anything but a bunch of supplies and you made SOMETHING. And if that’s not magic, I don’t know what is.

As you can see on that picture, Lucia isn’t finished yet, but I’m working on her clothes and accessories right now. Once she’s fully clothed and ready, the only thing she’ll need will be to be activated, so I’ll leave her to charge on my altar for one night. And in the morning, I’ll wake her up by kissing her forehead so she can start doing her job.

I swear this is the last post about this before I leave for my hiatus and hopefully come back.
1. Admins are saying we have attacked them and didn’t want to compromise. FALSE. I sent them a message and got blocked right away. I don’t know who else contacted them, but I’m guessing some of you got the same treatment. The admins are fooling their audience by saying that and playing the victim. We never said we hate Russians or anything like that, that’s just false information that they’re giving out. My work is copyrighted and so is everything else on this site, so you saying we’re lying about that is wrong and false.
2. The comments are saying how there can be compromise. We offered it. We said you need to ask someone for permission to use their content, just like you have to ask fan sites if they allow edits for their fan cams and pictures. Some people do, some people don’t. I mean, there are lists of fan sites who do and don’t allow editing so there wouldn’t be problems.
3. I’m sorry so many people have wasted their time translating our stories and posting them without credit, but you should have asked before starting to translate. My site clearly states that I don’t allow translations, so you went against my rules and translated it, thinking I won’t find out. You could have asked and found out, I’m sure there are people out there who allow translations.
4. Nobody said to close the site down. We asked you to take down the content you didn’t ask permission for. If that means that you have to close down your site, it means that you stole every single post, which is honestly insane to me, and what’s even more appalling is the fact that people are supporting these sites and trash talking us when it’s our/your content that they’re posting.
5. This isn’t just about fanfics. These sites post reactions, texts, gifs, pics, even text posts. So many people are deciding to not get involved because it’s not their content that’s in question, but honestly I wouldn’t be so sure.
Yesterday I talked to an admin of another site for hours. First they were rude and disrespectful and laughed at my face when I told them to ask for permission from people. Then they said it would be impossible to ask everyone for permission because their site has 3000+ posts and they don’t know who they took what from. Your content could be there too. Then they told me that they didn’t take anything from me personally so they don’t get why I’m asking them and that content creators should contact THEM and ask to get their stories taken down. I told them that it doesn’t matter because they’re stealing from the entire community. I don’t make gifs, but I know it takes a lot of time and effort to create them. I know how long it takes to write a story, so I’m going to take a stand against plagiarism even if my story wasn’t in question.

I’m sorry that some of you are ignoring this situation because it’s “drama”. Yes, it’s drama and it’s frustrating. It’s frustrating to stand up for 3000 people that got their work stolen and get called all kind of names and get bashed by everyone on the site and threatened with a backlash of negative comments etc. I honestly expected a lot more of you to get involved because you don’t even know how much work they have stolen from you since nothing is credited and there are thousands of posts there. I know it’s easier to stay on the side and let a couple of us talk to these people and get hate and get reported for it while you wait for it to blow out, but that’s not the right thing to do. They’re acting like a community and we’re not. They’re going to get away with this and I don’t have the strength to spend another day arguing with these people and explaining to them why it’s wrong to steal content and use it without permission.
I’m disappointed by this entire thing, but mostly the lack of solidarity here.

Summary: Being
the personal assistant to the Avengers wasn’t all that bad, except your huge
crush on Steve made you turn into mush.
On your annual game night, Tony insists you play Truth or Dare. It seems as if a few people already know your
secret and they are trying to hook you up with Steve.

A/N: Here is what
you have been waiting for lovelies!! I
hope you enjoy :)

You didn’t get a whole lot of sleep last night, your mind
constantly racing with thoughts of going on a date with Steve. At the beginning of the night, you were
pretty mad at your friends because it seemed as if they were all plotting
against you. But in the end, you
realized how amazing they truly were, as they finally got you to open yourself
up to Steve, and now you were going on a date this afternoon with him.

You stretched your muscles, a moan escaping your mouth from
your bones cracking. Looking at the
clock you realized you had slept in until 11am.
You jumped out of bed and headed to the shower knowing you wanted to
take your time shaving. You knew Steve
was pretty old-fashioned when it came to his beliefs, so you weren’t 100% sure
how the night was going to end; but you knew how you wanted it to end; Steve
ravishing you in bed.

A/N: I’m sure in parts of the world Bucky’s birthday is long over, but it’s still March 10th where I live! Happy Birthday, Bucky Barnes!

9:15 am

Steve Rogers stared at you with wide blue eyes as you attempted
to wolf down a bowl of cereal. There were many things out of place in this
picture—for one thing, he couldn’t quite fathom how a person could so wildly
eat cheerios, your spoon constantly clanging against the sides of the bowl.

For another thing, it was rare that you were up this early
on a Friday, even if it was a special occasion. He glanced at the clock
opposite him, noting that it was only fifteen past nine in the morning.

The super soldier opened his mouth to say something, but he
stopped short at the abrupt sound of your chair scraping its legs against the floor.
You shot out of your seat to drop your wares in the sink before floating across
the table, depositing yourself in Bucky Barnes’ lap.

Bucky eyed you with a smirk, still chewing his breakfast
while you placed your hands around his neck. You stared at him with doe eyes,
batting your lashes heavily. “You need somethin’ darlin?” he questioned you,
the tips of his lips curving into a smile despite the pointed look he was
trying to give.

“Uhhhhh hurry up!” You bounced impatiently on his thigh,
squirming around as you started to slip. “I’m only at twenty-seven!”

“Twenty-seven what?” For a quick moment, everything you
could have possibly meant flashed into Steve’s mind, some of them not exactly
what he wanted to think about over his first meal. With a quirked eyebrow he
looked at the close couple, searching their faces for an explanation.

“I’m trying to mmm-” Your voice was cut off when your
boyfriend shoved toast into your mouth, the jam smearing across your lips and
making it sticky. Smugly, Bucky returned his attention to Steve, who watched on
with a bewildered expression.

“Did she give you ninety-nine last year?” Steve asked, very
amused by the challenge, but also grateful. While your idea was strange, he
found it sweet and affectionate; just the type of love Bucky needed after years
of solitude.

“He hid his birthday from me last year, and now he has to
pay for it!” you accused, poking your finger into his chest. “Besides, one
hundred is a special milestone! Much more so than ninety-nine.”

“Most people don’t make it to ninety-nine,” Bucky pointed
out, prodding your cheek with the end of his fork. You could see him fighting
the urge to cave into your demands, hiding his grin with a cup of coffee. His
eyes seemed to shimmer, much like they did when Steve brought him to the tower
for the first time.

It felt like so many years ago that you’d met Bucky, a
cautious, broken thing with eyes like glass. You didn’t think you’d ever get to
see him so comfortable, so relaxed, so human.
It made your heart swell, more so than the kisses ever could.

“Well then, even less people make it to one hundred. I’m
glad you’re one of them,” your smile softened as you placed a kiss to his
temple, his eyes closing in reverence. He wrapped an arm around your shoulder,
placing his head against yours.

“I’m glad you’re here with me. You too, punk,” the brunette’s
eyes picked up to Steve’s, narrowing playfully. “I see you over there.”

With a grin, Steve held up his hands in a placating gesture.
“Who me? I’m not doing a thing. Just watching my best friend be totally
disgusting with his girlfriend.” He was shaking now, wiping a tear away from
his eye as his laughter continued.

“I guess there’s some things one hundred years can’t change”

1:34 pm

“Fifty three…fifty four…fifty five…fifty six,” You were on a
roll, having placing your lips back and forth against Bucky’s for a few solid
minutes. You were getting fast, knowing that at some point he would grow
impatient of sitting on the couch for such small pecks.

He hadn’t complained yet, a satisfied smile growing even
wider as the other occupants of the room stared in horror while you repeatedly
kissed Bucky, counting in between. Sam mimicked retching, his acting turning
into an actual couching fit.

“Jesus Y/N, aren’t you tired? And I don’t just mean from
having to look at Barnes in the first place.” His voice made you stop, turning
to face the man with a weak glare. Wariness showed on your face, emphasized by
your off-guard expression and swollen lips.

“Could you please be
nice to him for like, one day out of the year? Actually two; Christmas is a
good time to lay off him too.”

“Could you two maybe get a room? We’re trying to watch
quality entertainment, not whatever gross thing you guys are doing,” Clint
groaned, eyes still glued to the television. Tony and Sam agreed with a round
of complaints, the entire room beginning to get rowdy.

“Why are we even watching this? It’s March Madness, turn on
ESPN!”

“Um, the Joffrey Ballet is performing Romeo and Juliet and I’m
missing it.”

“Would you guys mind if we put on Star Trek?”

“Fuck Next Generation, Brucey. Someone hand me the remote or
put on How I Met Your Mother.”

All of a sudden the T.V went blank, the remote clanging to
floor as you dropped it with your powers. The room was suddenly silent, no one
daring to make a move as your eyes returned to normal.

“I was here first, and I say you’re all watching T.V. in another room,” Your voice became
dangerously low, scarring the others to scamper out of their seats without any
complaints. There were small apologies being thrown at you, mostly muttered
from Clint and Tony. (“I’m sorry, I’m
sorry, please don’t use your powers!”)

You smiled until a pair of lips were
pressed firmly to yours, a much longer, heated kiss that stole your breath and
your thoughts. Bucky had grabbed your waist, pulling you to straddle his lap
once again.

“Sixty,” he reminded you, voice low as though he was sharing
a secret. You blinked, forgetting what the numbers were for in the first place.
He had that effect on you.

He smiled, a little embarrassed, but hugged you closer all
the same. “I wanted to give you one. That was pretty hot.”

6:28 pm

“What number are you guys on now?”

Natasha lazily swirled her spoon in her tea, head propped on
her fist as she sent a smirk towards you and Bucky. By some miracle you weren’t
completely smothering him, the two of you eating like normal people at the
dinner table.

“Eighty-six. I’ve been spreading them out, he likes it
better that way.” You beamed at him, unaware of his blushing state. Nat,
however, noticed this right away, wiggling her brows to gain his attention.

“I’m sure that’s not the only thing he likes spread out,”
she winked, and immediately after Bucky placed his head in his hands. A chorus
of feminine cackles erupted, making his face even hotter.

“Bucky, please,” you wheezed out, holding a hand to your
stomach. You gave his back a little rub, coaxing him out of his flushed state. “What
are you acting all shy about, baby?” you teased him, the two of you calling him
“ladies man” and “lover boy”, harping back to the stories Steve used to tell
about him.

Bucky slowly lifted his head, hands still covering his face.
“You know, I thought today was going to be more embarrassing for you than for
me. How could I be so wrong?”

You rolled your eyes as his antics, prying his hands away. “C’mon
Buckaroo,” you joked, trying to use as many dumb nickname as you could to calm
him down. “We’re only teasing.”

“Relentlessly,” he added, and you scoffed, placing your
hands on your hips.

“You’re one to talk about relentless! Do you want a list of
all the times you’ve taunted me! You did that to me this morning!” Bucky peeked
at you through his fingers, catching the frown etched on your face. “It’s only
fair!”

“Sorry, don’t recall,” he muttered, getting up from his seat
and walking away from you. You sputtered, standing quickly and bumping your
thighs against the table.

“Hey!” he was starting to run now, even with very limited
space. His back was retreating faster down the elevator corridor, and you
picked up speed, getting a running start off the ground before you flew towards
him.

“I can fly faster than you can run, Barnes!” you called
after him, eyes glowing as you shot forward. Bucky suddenly turned, arms wide
open, ready to catch you with a solid stance. You tried to slow down, but you
were hurdling toward him like a comet. The force of your collision sent him
skidding backwards, his feet tripping over themselves to regain a sense of balance.

You ended up twirling like a top, his arms wrapped around
you as you spun into the elevator. Your giggles turned into a hiccups, only to
be silenced by a kiss. A deep and slow one, melding your mouths together and ultimately
grounding you. Any dizziness that persisted afterwards was not from being spun,
but rather from the kiss that had you seeing stars.

“Eighty-seven,” you counted proudly, without a single
hiccup.

10:04 pm

Ten o’ clock wasn’t late by any means, but it had been a
long day.

There had been something of a party in the common room since
seven; a small gathering that consisted of the Avengers, and a few other agents
Bucky knew well. Tony had promised it wouldn’t be anything he wasn’t comfortable
with, and that if he wanted the celebration over, he could have it.

Tony kept his word. Even though Bucky had been having fun,
he realized that while he was busy catching up with Thor and Scott Lang, Y/N
had hardly been by his side. Perhaps it was the suddenness of it all, but he
felt immensely detached, gazing at her from across the room with longing looks.

You were quite adept at deciphering Bucky’s looks, even from
far away. He’d given you this long stare, his baby blue hues so cloudy and
dull, reason enough to saunter over to him and press a quick kiss to his lips.

“You okay?” you asked him, concerned that he wasn’t having
fun. He didn’t seem to suggest the idea, but you could tell that something was
bothering him. The first two times you did it, he shook his head and granted
you a small smile.

The third time was different. By the third kiss you felt his
restless energy, his hands cupping both your cheeks, seeking some sort of
outlet. You held his hands, looking straight into his eyes.

“Bucky,” you paused, making sure he was hearing you. “Bucky
are you alright?”

He was beginning to nod, his hair falling into his eyes as
he bowed his head, but his chin never came back up. “I’m fine, I just,” he
sounded strained, his voice thick with some emotion you couldn’t quite place. “How
many left?”

“Ten,” you told him, rubbing the pads of your thumbs over
his hands. “Just ten more.”

He licked his lips, grabbing onto your wrist loosely and
pulling you away. “I want to go.” He was using short sentences, his speech
rushed and shoulders tense. Today had
been long, and social events tended to tire him out quicker than anything else.

“Okay baby, you stay right there, I’ll tell Tony.” You gave
him a smile that was forced, the façade vanishing when you turned away from it.
You nearly jogged to reach Tony, explaining the situation as best you could,
despite not understanding it yourself.

He was good about it. Tony didn’t make a scene, he just waved
graciously with a small smile. Bucky returned it, and suddenly the whole room
was raising a glass in his leave.

“Happy Birthday, Buck! Hope you had fun.” Steve’s strong
voice was wistful, but his smile was not at all sad. Bucky gave a salute,
relief seeping back into him as you two looped arms, turning your backs to the
avengers.

“You sure you’re okay?” It was simply precautionary, your
worry fading when he gave a genuine smile.

“I’m fine, doll face. Just wanted to cash in those last ten
kisses in private.”

11:15 pm

He was smooth, in almost everything he did. It was scary,
sometimes, how he could surprise you like that. Bucky appeared so sharp, so
bent and twisted sometimes that you were always taken aback by how careful and
soft he treated you.

His hands slowly went up your side, bunching the soft cotton
of your pajamas impatiently. When he detached himself, his burning blue eyes
looked straight at you, lips parted but unmoving, the question unspoken between
you two.

“Ninety-eight,” you replied, breathing heavily against his
lips, your foreheads touching. He’d been playing this game since he’d gotten
you alone, taking charge of the gift you were supposed to give him. He rolled
his hips under yours, nails digging into your sides almost painfully as he
angled his mouth down for another go.

Suddenly his pursed lips met the pads of your fingers. He
blinked, watching as you sat back on your knees, taking his wrists into your
hands.

“This is my gift. You can’t take control of it, that makes
it yours.” You felt like you were pouting, crossing your arms to convey your
annoyance, even it if was acute.

Bucky laughed until he realized you were serious. “What?
Darling, come on,” he persuaded, lifting up your chin. “It is for me.”

“Yeah, but it’s, I’m,” you struggled to form your thought
into a coherent statement, one that would make sense. “I’m giving you one
hundred kisses, in my time. You can’t
cash them all in like a rain check.”

That seemed to do the trick, your boyfriend leaning back on
his elbows, looking at you with raised brows. “Well when you put it like that,”
he drawled, and you used your strength to push him down onto his back.

“When I put it like that,” you mocked him, landing on your
side next to him. You grazed your finger across his jaw, tracing the outline
down his neck and collarbone. His skin was hot to the touch, but shivers wracked
his spine when your nails scratched under his chin. He was eager, hands
twitching to touch you. You laughed at his restraint, cupping your hands to
his cheeks and giving him a soft, tender kiss that lasted but a minute.

You didn’t need to say it out loud; you both understand that
this was the last of them, the final kiss to mark his birthday. He smiled as he
shifted to mirror your body, arms snaking around your neck. He wanted so desperately
to say something, but before he could even think about it, your lips placed a
small peck to his.

“One hundred! Happy Birthday, Bucky!” you grinned sneakily,
and he grabbed you, pulling you onto his lap. You laughed at his expression,
the fleeting anger that bubbling under his shock.

“What? That so does not count!” he yelled, feeling cheated.
He pulled your wrists to bring your closer, so close that your chests touched
and your eyes were solely focused on each other. You still stifled some giggles
back, and Bucky finally sighed, resigned to the fact that, no matter how
devious it was, you’d kept your promise.

“You’re forgetting something,” your chirpy voice reminded
him, and he grumbled a quick response before you placed your hands on his
chest. You captured his attention a mere moment before you captured his lips,
this time in a kiss that mattered.

It started slow and hesitant, as though you were testing
unsteady waters. Soon it became deeper, those hovering hands now fully immersed
in his hair, tugging at the roots with just enough pull to spur him on further.

Bucky placed his hands on your hips, slowly sitting himself
up, never breaking contact. He placed you back down onto the bed, his weight
pressing against yours. Your resolve broke, that earlier statement off the
table as Bucky guided you onto your back, trapping you between his arms. Your
head pressed into the mattress, your body sinking as your breath was stolen
from you, Bucky’s chest flush against you.

When the need for air became too hard to ignore, Bucky
pulled back, a questioning glance on his face. “Pretty sure I’m not one hundred
and one,” he inquired, and you smiled.

“One for good luck.” Your answer made him break out into a
grin, one so contagious you nearly forgot about everything else. He slowly
leaned down and pressed a chaste kiss to your lips, a good and quick thing that
conveyed everything it needed to.

Request:Could you please write an imagine where the reader is Bruce Wayne’s (Gotham) girlfriend and she gets kidnapped by Jerome because he’s obsessed with her and isn’t happy with the fact that her and Bruce are a thing. Then since Jim is the reader’s dad he and Bruce go rescue her. Once they do the reader is relieved and cries in Bruce’s arms because she was really scared and she’s just really glad to see both of them. Sorry this is long and thank you in advance!

Fandom: Gotham!Bruce Wayne x Reader

Note: this is in the reader’s point of view. it includes kidnapping, a bit of violence i think, swearing & this is sort of a rusty imagine and i have no idea why i left this one shot to write last in my requests list. whoops !!

Bruce and I went out to the movies. It’s been a while since he’d done something like this, after what happened to his parents on a night he would never forget. A night of enjoying time with your family. Neither Bruce and I wanted to go home yet. There was an arcade and a snack bar that was open for an hour left, so we went there after the film was over.

We came in partway through the crowd of people and I hand a twenty dollar bill to Bruce. “You said you wanted more burgers, right?”

Bruce stutters, “B-but that’s the last o-of your-”

“Shhhhhh!” I hissed. I know he’s rich and Alfred already provided him almost anything to the movies and even advised him to not go down the same alley, or any alley, I gave him the money anyways. “Well none of the game machines will accept dollar bills.”

“Not even the pinball machine?” he pouts like a little kid.

“Nah, Bruce. Not even the pinball machine. But hey! I got spare change here,” I patted my pocket. “I’ll go save a game for the both of us, you can buy more food.”

“Really? Your dad won’t get mad?”

“He would get mad if I stole money or if I spoke to strangers and receive candy from them. It’d be hard for him to handcuff his daughter and take her to the slammer if she was caught with drugs.”

“Gee, Thanks.” He takes a moment before kissing me. He then left.

My father, the infamous Detective James Gordon, would actually be pretty pissed. But this is a date and Bruce paid for the tickets, two giant bags of popcorn and a giant soda.

Can’t believe he had room for burgers.

The pinball machine was vacant, the red lights flashing from the bulbs caught my attention. I started laughing when I recalled a memory of Bruce losing a round. I hoped Bruce wouldn’t take long with the food because I enjoy competition.

“Care for a game of pinball?” a voice crept up without notice and I almost dropped the coins in my hand. I looked around with a relieved laugh.

“Bruce, did you just hit puberty and deepened your voice-”

My heart dropped. Bruce was in line, many feet away from me, from the arcade. He was so far away I could see him as tiny as a thumb. I pushed a leg forward after standing frozen in my tracks. The voice sounded nothing like a ghost, and I followed where it was coming from.

To my right the arcade had two walls connecting, forming an emergency exit in the corner so dark that you couldn’t see a thing. The workers didn’t think to add a bit of light or something or the glowing exit sign.

All I wanted to hear is Bruce saying in a cheery voice, “Two burgers coming right up!” I couldn’t help picturing who or what just called my attention. The voice sounded so creepy, sounded like a snake. Not one voice I would have dreamed of before knowing Bruce.

“You hanging in there, doll face?” there it was again, the voice asked again in the pitch black corner. “I can beat you in a game of pinball. Just one game.” He sounded like a dealer whispering to you in a dark alley.

I shake my head. Probably some jerk trying to flirt with me and lure me towards him. I did however march towards the dark. I knew how to fend for myself when it came to jerks who try to flirt with me and girls who try to flirt with Bruce.

“Who are you- mmmmpghh!!”

An arm swung around me, the other smashing my face. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t scream for help, for Bruce’s name. A cloth was pressed against my face and they wouldn’t let go. No oxygen, but something else. I felt like I was in a real life horror movie and I knew I wasn’t winning.

“Mmmmpgh!! B-mmmmphh!” Bruce! Help me!

I don’t know how long it takes for someone to pass out from chloroform. But my eyes were shutting and before I blacked out, my body feeling suddenly light, I could see Bruce running towards me but it was far too late.

I woke up and the first thing I notice is the foul smell fuming everywhere, wherever I was. I couldn’t move my hands to even touch my face because they were tied around the arms of a chair.

Great! Either I’m stuck in some unfunny prank pulled by someone I know I’m gonna beat up or get my dad to arrest, or I’m actually in a real life situation of kidnap, in which my dad can take care of as well.

“Bruce?” I wept. “Bruce? Are you there? Anyone?”

There was a slight pause, and then the loud echoes of footsteps clanking slowly toward me, then the sound of maniacal cackling. Light hit the ceiling and my eyes were adjusting the crates, forklifts and boxcars around me. I’m in a warehouse.

But the person who I was with wasn’t Bruce. This wasn’t a prank. How do I know? Because the person who kidnapped me isn’t really much of a pranker, but a wanted psychopath.

“Yes,” Jerome Valeska said. “I’m here.”

I screamed. “My dad is gonna be here soon, as well as my boyfriend, and they’re gonna whoop your ass!” I felt confident, but I didn’t know who was coming or if anyone has any idea where I am.

“But … I’m your boyfriend,” says Jerome, twirling his finger around as if he thinking.

“Over my dead body! Me being with you is just completely insane!” Bruce and I watched kidnapping movies, and he has been kidnapped before. I haven’t and now I can. I can just imagine and feel how any other victim must of felt.

“Oh doll, you know you don’t belong with that millionaire prince of Gotham. That little brat. Bruce Wayne,” he sneers his name. “You belong … with me!”

“Why me? What do you want with me?” I whimpered.

Jerome smiles. “Where do I begin? For starters, you’re damn beautiful,” he comes too close in contact with my face, hissing in my ear. I shrink in my seat as he tugged my hair. “-secondly, I could use a little twinkie like you-”

I held in my gasp.

“And THIRD!” he raised his voice. “The nerve of you, my sweet girl, to not come running into my arms! What does Bruce have that I don’t have? Wealth. Love. Y/N.”

My spine held chills when he said my name. How did he even know my name? How did he know I was dating Bruce?

“So there you have it.”

“You are just jealous of Bruce.”

He screams, “You’re mine! You belong with me!”

“You think anyone in Gotham believes that? Because there is such thing as delusion.” I gawked a bit and spat in his face.

He is taken back before licking the saliva and tasting it. I cringe.

“That was strangly pleasant,” he curls his lips in amusement before smirking and coming close to my face again. “Do it again!”

The grey door busts open.

“Stop!” someone called out. It was like heaven was revealed in front of my eyes. I had so many questions. I saw the boy I loved running towards me and Jerome along with my dad and a few other force members armed with guns running in with yells.

I almost wept.

“She’s not yours, Jerome!” Bruce screams. “You’re busted!”

“Yeah … no- argh!” Jerome was tackled down by a cop before he could say another word.

“You don’t even know the first thing about her,” Bruce sneers watching Harvey Bullock hold Jerome on the floor, handcuffing him. From afar I could still see Jerome staring him down with the nastiest look.

My dad releases me from the restraints and I was so weak that I practically fell in my dad’s arms. “Daddy!” I haven’t called him that ever since I was five. “How did you-”

“Bruce found you.” I landed on my knees and hands and crawled to Bruce as he bent to embrace me.

He sighs, holding me tight. “When I saw you out the theater I followed you, and saw you being carried into a black car so then I got Alfred to call the GCPD to track down the licence plate.”

I didn’t say anything, I just let him hold me as tears prickled in my eyes. I blink them shut before Bruce wiped them away with his sleeve.

“Can I say one thing?” he says.

“Okay.”

“I still have the burgers from the snack bar,” Bruce said. “We can still eat them. And I gave the change to your father. He’s kinda mad about the amount you gave up.”